|
5/19/02 It's been quite a weekend, full of performance art, rock and roll, alcohol, vomit (someone else's, thankfully), Vietnamese food, cannoli, espresso, books, sex (with someone else, thankfully), and bagels, egg, cheese, and bacon. And some naps. And now, on to the things I can actually discuss in detail: The extravagant Fischerspooner show on Friday night in Soho was pretty fucking great. The larger Deitch gallery space was transformed into a rock music video stage complete with surround sound catwalks. The band changed costumes after every song, each outfit sparklier than the next. The music - though all 80s and electronic, which the NY Times just figured out was cool a few weeks back, which means of course it is no longer cool - was still enjoyable. (I'd say I got into about a third of it.) It was nice to see people who cared about their art, as tongue in cheek as it all is. Thumbs up. Cat's going to have pics up over on her site, if you're interested. Then we headed over to the Sleater-Kinney show at Warsaw, and of course, I was as happy as a little girl. They just make me so happy. Kerri, Matty, Catherine, and Indie Rock Boy Matt and I fought our way to the front and left, maybe not as close as I would have liked, but still close enough that I could see those girls. They're so cute. They have the best arms. I enjoy everything they do. I could listen to them play "Dig Me Out" over and over again and I would never get sick of it. What can I say? They're my favorite band in the world. Later we all got drunk and went to Enid's and got more drunk and I got into arguments with boys at the bar. I think I'm so unstoppable, when really I'm just an asshole. I really shouldn't drink that much. Well, maybe I should. It's fun as hell. I stumbled home around 2 AM. I mixed drinks, so I woke up the next day with a hangover, and I still haven't recovered. I had a marathon date with a cute man. We ate some beef cubes and rice and spring rolls and a not-very-good squid dish at a restaurant that featured a bathroom sign asking guests to "not step on the toilet seats with your shoes." We tried to figure out what circumstance would warrant a restaurant guest standing on a toilet seat. Nothing came to mind. Then we walked uptown to the EV, and then had some cannoli and coffee, followed by a trip to St. Mark's Books. We talked the whole time. I love walking and talking dates. Later we watched the totally awful Winona Ryder-hosted season finale of "Saturday Night Live." Methinks Winona is taking a ride on the Good Ship Botox, if you catch my drift. She is unnatural looking, and I really do wish someone would get her some help already. Also: Moby is such a camera whore it's a wonder he can look at himself in the mirror in the morning without spitting in it. And that's it. That's where I'm at. There are so many details I have to leave out these days, and I'm sorry. But if you were my friend, you'd want it that way, too. And I'd like to keep my friends around for a while, you know? |